Baker’s Run, Gippsland 1902
Chapter One
The tense undercurrent of a whispered argument stirred Harry Goddard from sleep. He crept out of bed and, gripping the hand-hewn timber banister atop the stairs, strained to catch the undertones of his parents’ heated dispute.
“It’s madness, Jamie. He’s still so young!”
Harry’s pride smarted at his mother’s desperation. Eighteen, almost nineteen, he was past ready to step out of the shadows of childhood.
His father’s weary response followed. “Eliza, if we try to hold him back, he’ll leave regardless. He has that fierce spark in him, the same one I fell in love with in you.”
“But the city could be his undoing. It’s such a wild place.”
Harry bit the insides of his cheeks. While he understood their apprehensions, the world was calling to him, and he had to respond. He cherished the farm, but he craved more.
Then the familiar creak of their bedroom door signalled the end of their conversation, so he retreated, wrestling with his emotions.
The next morning, as dawn painted the sky with a soft blush, he rose, taking care not to disturb his younger brothers. A rush of love for his siblings swept through him. He would miss them and his four younger sisters, but there was more to life than the familiarity of their farm and the repetitive nature of his chores. Always curious, he’d listened with eagerness to the Sunday school tales of far-off lands and heroic exploits.
He entered the kitchen, Mother’s emerald-green eyes softening as she glanced over her shoulder from the stove. “Harry, my love. You’re up early.”
“I need to talk to you and Father.”
Her hand stilled on the teapot. Strands of silver streaked the copper hair tied at her nape, and lines creased the corners of her eyes, testifying to decades of hard work. After bearing nine children, seven still alive, her slender frame had softened, but she was still a beautiful woman, and Harry understood why Father loved her so.
“Your father has taken a mare to inspect the top paddock. He fears foxes have attacked the lambs overnight, but you can talk to me.” She handed him a mug of tea and sat at the table opposite him.
He wrapped his hands around the mug and lifted his gaze to her. “I heard you and Father last night.”
A pained look flickered across her face. “Then you’ll know your decision grieves me.”
He looked down, struggling to put his emotions into words. “I do. But this isn’t youthful rebellion—it’s a yearning, Mother. A pull I can’t ignore.”
“How will you support yourself in the city?”
“I’ll work as a dockhand or a labourer. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“Indeed, you work as hard as your father and your grandfather before him, but your home’s here. With us.”
“You’re my family, and my love for you will never dim. But I want more than this.”
When her expression crumpled, his chest hollowed. He reached out and covered her hand with his. “Mother, you’ve raised me to be a strong, resilient, god-fearing man, but I have this longing to experience the world beyond this sheltered valley. Please let me go with your blessing.”
She searched his eyes, the weight of their history palpable between them. After a long, tense silence, her voice came in a low whisper. “If you have to go, I’ll give you my blessing, but I’ll pray every day for your return. You’re my firstborn, Harry, and you hold a special place in my heart.”
“I know, Mother, and I’ll never forget that. You and Father strived hard to build a home filled with love, and one day, I hope I can do the same for my family. But right now, I need to venture beyond Baker’s Run and this farm.”
“When will you leave?”
“Today.”
She jolted. “You can’t leave today! We need to say goodbye properly.”
“It will only be harder the longer I delay. I’ll finish my chores and take the afternoon train.”
“Oh, Harry. Come here and hug me.”
He stood and went to her, wrapping his strong arms around her and pressing his cheek to her soft hair. “I love you so, Mother.”
“And I’ll always love you. May the Lord bless and keep you, my dear son.”
Harry went about his chores, his stomach churning.
When he entered the barn, the horses whinnied.
“Shhh, Kiva. It’s just me.” He stroked the mare’s neck. “I’m going to miss you, but Simon will look after you while I’m gone. He’s a good boy.”
The horse whinnied again, as if understanding.
“If I have time, I’ll take you for a ride before I go.”
He inhaled the sweet scent of the hay one last time as he fed and watered the horses.
By the time he returned to the homestead, all his siblings were seated around the table, and he felt their stares as he entered the room.
From his place, Father gave him a nod. “Harry.”
“Father.”
Six-year-old Nellie grabbed his arm. “You can’t leave. Who’s going to teach me to ride?”
An ache tore through him, but he stuffed it back inside. “Simon. He’s a better rider than I am, anyway.” He winked at his sixteen-year-old brother as he sat between him and Nellie. But when his attempt at joviality did nothing to soften his brother’s stony expression, Harry straightened and looked at his family. “I’ll come back, you know. I just need to do this. It’s not like I’m crossing the sea never to return. I’m only going to Sydney.”
“Can I come and visit?” Nellie piped up, her emerald-green eyes large and round.
His heart melted at her innocence. He patted her hand. “I’ll write when I get settled.”
Father cleared his throat and held out his hands. “Let’s give thanks so we can eat.”
They joined hands around the table, and as Father prayed, Harry stored the words in his heart, for who knew when next he would sit around this table?
“And lastly, Lord, we ask that You bless and keep Harry. May Your face shine upon him, and please, be gracious unto him. Lift up Your countenance upon him and give him peace. In the blessed name of Your Son, we pray. Amen.”
Amens resounded around the table.
Mother had made all his favourites—poached eggs, bacon, roasted tomatoes, and scones with preserves she’d canned herself. She handed him a heaped plate and gave him a knowing look before she sat across from him. “Eat up and prepare for your journey.”
He might have her blessing, and she might have put on a brave face. But she couldn’t hide the sadness in her eyes.
He’d need to leave before his resolve could falter. Otherwise, he’d live with regret for the rest of his life.
Mother curved her hands around the teacup he’d given her in his tenth year. He’d done extra chores for weeks to earn money for that birthday gift. “Father will take you to Sale in the buggy.”
“Can I come?” Nellie tipped her face to Father.
“We should all go,” ten-year-old Michael announced.
“Mother?” Simon’s twin sister, Mary, lifted her brow. “I’d like to buy some lace for my new dress. Baker’s Run doesn’t have what I want.”
At Mother’s glance, Father shrugged. “A family outing sounds wonderful.”
Ellie clapped. “Can I get a new doll?”
Harry ruffled her russet hair. “I’ll buy you one as my parting gift.”
She leaned against him. “I’m going to miss you.”
His throat tightened. How much more guilt could she heap on him?
He kissed the top of her hair and breathed in the fresh floral scent, committing it to memory. “I’m going to miss you too.”
At the station, just before he boarded, Mother pressed a worn leather Bible into his hands. “May this guide and comfort you on your journey, my dear boy.”
He hugged it close and held her gaze. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll treasure it always.”
With a final glance at his family, he boarded the train, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
